


Exploring Ethnic Differences

by MrEvilside



Series: Statecraft [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Loki, Humor, Jötunn Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Post-Thor (2011), Pre-Avengers (2012), Shameless Smut, Snark, Tony Just Has To Deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEvilside/pseuds/MrEvilside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He has to make an effort to impress Loki––better still, to charm the pants off him––and to show him he’s dedicated, or the prince won’t take him seriously.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Hence his plan: he will give Loki the best night of his life, candlelight dinner and shit, so the guy will be swept off his feet and will beg Tony to have sex with him. Or something like that.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Anyway, he’s a genius, what can go wrong?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploring Ethnic Differences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluemary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemary/gifts).



You see, Tony is clever. It doesn’t take him long to figure out why his cohabitation with the hot alien ambassador from Jötunheimr is still so _chaste_. He’s Tony Stark _and_ Iron Man––rich, handsome, and (super)heroic––but he has _yet_ to take Loki to bed. That can’t be right.

Thankfully, he’s also a scientist: to make things right is his job.

He realises he won’t get anything other than the guy’s amusement with the same suggestive looks and cheap one-liners that do wonders on the equally cheap one-night stands he picks up on Friday night––or any other night, to be precise. He has to make an effort to impress Loki––better still, to charm the pants off him––and to show him he’s dedicated, or the prince won’t take him seriously.

Hence his plan: he will give Loki the best night of his life, candlelight dinner and shit, so the guy will be swept off his feet and will beg Tony to have sex with him. Or something like that.

Anyway, he’s a genius, what can go wrong?

He sets out to organise the date early in the morning. He instructs Pepper to call the most expensive Mediterranean restaurant in the city to deliver their most renowned meat dishes at the Tower by six thirty. Being raised among Viking warriors, Loki’s preference for several pounds of steak and good wine has soon become obvious. Then he drives his assistant to his favourite shop and does _not_ plead for her help to choose an outfit.

He tries on five different sets of clothes, complains all the time because the first two are too formal and the last three too casual, and eventually shuts up when Pepper threatens to leave, and lets her pick out his attire, though not without a pout.

He buys chocolate on the way back and spends half of the day tidying up the penthouse––read: he makes the terrible decision to involve Dum-E in the household chores, the robot almost sets the whole place on fire, Tony locks him up in the workshop, and has to clean up _again_ after its mess.

Shit, having sex is demanding.

At least Loki doesn’t bother leaving his floor––Tony didn’t so much give him one as capitulated to the notion that the god _claimed_ it as his own––for the whole day, allowing him plenty of time to prepare.

At six thirty, he sets the table and arranges each dish with extreme care, until he’s satisfied with the display. Then he checks himself in the mirror one last time. He won’t admit it to Pepper, but he’s ecstatic about his new dark blue blazer, worn unbuttoned over a purple shirt, and tight-fitting trousers.

The food looks good, he looks good, and the Tower hasn’t been burnt to the ground by an overly helpful machine. Tony grins at his own reflection.

It’s time to blow Loki’s mind.

As he’s just about to ask JARVIS to call him, the Jötunn himself steps into the penthouse out of nowhere, walks up to a rather astonished Tony, and stares at him with a look on his face and a smirk on his sinful lips that make the air between them crackle with electricity. He is towering over the man, who cowers and backs away on instinct, only to find himself cornered against the meticulously laid out table.

Tony isn’t scared, but he can’t be blamed if his body acts of its own accord, because Loki is huge and intimidating and unpredictable and––

He kisses Tony.

Just like that, he leans forward, tilts his head to the side, his long hair spilling over both his and the man’s shoulder, and kisses him. When Tony is too overwhelmed with amazement at what the fuck is happening to respond, Loki grabs a fistful of hair on the back of his neck, and proceeds to ravish his mouth. There’s no other way––or maybe Tony is a bit too busy to care about finding another one, so sue him––to describe the insatiable hunger with which the god forces his lips open and captures his tongue in a frantic battle. At first, the man is even too baffled to fight.

At last, he pulls himself together, but the chance to reciprocate the kiss with equal enthusiasm is snatched away from him since Loki has already moved on to taking a firm hold of his legs and to hoisting him up onto the table. How easy he does that should be embarrassing and perhaps Tony will even make a witty remark later, but right now he is quite distracted by the blue alien nearly ripping the fly from his trousers with his otherworldly strength.

“Hey, these are…”

 _Expensive_ ––he wants to say––and also not on his body anymore, because the Jötunn yanks them down along with his underwear and drops on one knee in a single flawless motion, while Tony feels like the most awkward puberty-ridden teenager, perched on the edge of the table like a bird.

“Wait, what…”

Once again, Loki finds a most efficient way to silence him, wrapping his warm mouth around the tip of Tony’s cock and proceeding to deep throat him like he blows people on a daily basis. Maybe he does.

The man throws his head back, a low, choked sound working its way out of him as he plants his palms behind himself for support.

Something moves, falls and shatters on the floor, but Tony hardly registers what is going on besides Loki’s bobbing head between his legs, Loki’s long fingers on his thighs, keeping them wide apart, and Loki’s flaming red eyes burning holes into him. Even with his own eyelids shut and his head bent backwards, he can still feel the intensity of that gaze, watching him, touching him, devouring him.

It’s almost as physical a sensation as the blowjob.

The god’s lips retreat, until they are covering only the leaking end of his erection, and a cold shiver runs down Tony’s spine due to the sudden exposure of his heated skin to the cool air.

 _Almost_ as physical.

All too soon, the Jötunn backs away completely, to which the man responds with a complaining grunt and snaps his eyes open to look down at him again. Thus, he gets to see the erotic display of Loki’s smirk against him when he comes closer again and licks Tony’s cock up and down several times.

If he plans to conquer Earth by knocking out one of its mightiest hero with awesome sex, it’s a grandiose success and Iron Man couldn’t care less.

When the god has the good grace to take him into his mouth again, some partially functioning part of Tony’s mind decides it’s about time to take back some semblance of control. As a result, he surrounds Loki’s head with his strong legs, ensuring he stays exactly where he is, just in case he wants to act like a dick again – no pun intended – and then lifts his hips and bucks against him experimentally.

More than annoyed, the Jötunn seems amused and delivers a rather fervent reaction that threatens to melt every muscle, nerve and bone in Tony’s thighs. So much for _strong legs_.

Loki’s delighted moan around his cock almost undoes him, but he steels himself and repeats the movement. He establishes a rhythm, his thrusts growing increasingly hard and erratic as he loses his mind to the pleasure.

The god adjusts to him and keeps up with ease. If he has to be honest with himself, Tony suspects it’s Loki that’s holding back, not the other way around.

In fact, when he realises he’s reaching his limit and slows down, the god glowers at him in a way that would be a total cockblock had it come from any other person in any other situation. As it is, an angry Loki proves to be an even more arousing Loki, and Tony couldn’t be more happy to comply and stay put when the Jötunn’s grip on him tightens and he even bites down into his aching erection, as if to claim possession.

Fighting the urge to close his eyelids once more, the man compels himself to watch Loki literally eat him up to the end of his orgasm, although his vision becomes blurry and at some point he isn’t even sure if his eyes are open or not, he’s so lost in the dizzying number of sensations hitting him at once.

He tenses, comes, and relaxes again, slumping backwards before he remembers there’s no place to collapse against. He ends up a messy, boneless shape falling backwards on his elbows. The sight draws a husky chuckle from Loki that should aggravate him, for nobody makes fun of Tony Stark, but he can’t find it in himself to perform basic bodily functions, let alone something more complicated.

He just slaps a hand over his face in a lame excuse for a facepalm, then he lets it rest there because it’s easier than thinking about where else to put it. Thinking, yeah. He used to do that a lot. Good, old times. He isn’t certain he will ever attain the same level of intellectual activity again.

Eventually, he pushes himself up to a sitting position and finds Loki resting his hip against the edge of the table, body turned towards Tony and arms crossed over his chest as he waits, humming to himself in obvious satisfaction. What a shit-eating fucker. And Tony is hopeless, of course, because he can’t help the thought that the smug grin spreading over that handsome, blue face is endearing.

 _Endearing_. For fuck’s sake, give him a break.

“So, uh…” He starts, struggling to keep what little dignity he still has. “That was…”

“Superb? Unforgettable? Awe-inspiring?” Loki shrugs and gives him a sympathetic, condescending pat on the shoulder. “I know. You don’t need to worry your pretty little head to come up with a term apt to describe the unfathomable depth of my sexual skills.”

Tony arches an eyebrow, because _what?_

“Actually, I was going to say ‘aggressive’. Dude, you practically _assaulted_ me. Do Frost Giants go into heat or something?”

Now it’s the god’s turn to give him the Eyebrow. He looks unabashed, like it’s Tony who’s being weird. “Well, I grew tired of waiting in vain for your courting to progress,” he explains and opens his palms in a helpless gesture. “Therefore, I thought I’d have to make things right myself.”

Despite himself, the man nods, because, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I th––hey, hang on a second there! You thought jumping on me would _make things right_?!” He runs his hands through his hair and shoots Loki a disbelieving glance, then he makes some dramatic motions to point at the table. “ _I_ wanted to make things right and worked all day to prepare the perfect date!” Damn, calling their different interpretation of _making things right_ ‘ethnic differences in language’ would be the Royal Understatement of the Year for the following forever. “I mean, I was trying to be _considerate_. You’re a prince! Shouldn’t you be more, I don’t know, ‘this is inappropriate’ and shit?”

For the first time, the god peers above Tony’s shoulder and takes in the once-upon-a-time impeccable dinner. The man doesn’t feel as brave yet. Now that his head is clearing up, he cringes at the memory of the different kind of date he involuntarily set up for the plates and the floor.

In the span of three quarters of a second, Loki’s eyes widen and then narrow to slits. Tony barely processes the emotions flickering across those crimson irises––surprise, pleasure, feigned irritation––before the god snorts and replies, “Your consideration is not necessary, not to mention exasperating. As you have just experienced, my methods are much more effective. The next time, do not bother.”

The man looks up at the ceiling in a silent plea for help, but, if there are any other deities up there, they’re either too lazy to intervene, or on Loki’s side. That’s universal justice for you.

Anyway, Tony can’t help the little laugh the Jötunn’s act elicits from him. Because of that, sounding disdainful is of course out of the question. To himself, he has to admit Loki is a much better performer than he could ever hope to be. Maybe it’s for the better. At least one of them should admit he’s enjoying all this diplomacy going on, and it might as well be him. Let Loki play the Pouting Prince of Prickland all he wants––Tony’s better than that.

The thought improves his mood quite a lot and he keeps grinning even when his chuckle dies out. The god ducks his head to the side and examines him with piercing intent, curious. “What now?”

“Oh, nothing.” Tony offers him the same treatment he was given only minutes ago––the combination of shrug and sympathetic, condescending pat, plus he throws in a pitiful smile for good measure––and asks instead, “So, you still want to go on that date? We can skip to the end where I get the girl––well, the alien, in your case––and all’s well that ends well, if Your Majesty fancies.”

Loki levels him with a calculating stare, probably pondering if food is worth letting go of the previous subject. “What’s for dinner?”

“Best rare steak in town. Hopefully, you haven’t dropped all of it on the floor.”

Tony doesn’t even hide his preening when the Jötunn’s face brightens with sudden interest. He lives to please. Besides, he hasn’t had a real date in a long time and he’s put a lot of effort into this one: the least Loki owes him is to let him actually take part in it.

He’s also oh so getting the alien tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> It took me more than a year, but "Statecraft" is back! :D
> 
> This is my first try at smut, so please don't be too cruel. LOL Anyway, it's all Loki's fault for being so unpredictable. And also Bluemary's fault for writing so much smut and making me feel guilty for not writing any. So blame it on her.
> 
> All feedback is more than welcome and, if you'd like to check out a longer story of mine, I've got a multi-chaptered FrostIron fic in development and will post the fourth chapter on Friday. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. If you're reading that other fic, "Heroin And The Midnight Sea," you'll probably notice a different format (e.g. single quotation marks for dialogue instead of double, etc.). That's because I'm using that format for my most recent work, since I've discovered it's the proper style used by publishing houses in the UK, but, for the sake of consistency, in this fic I kept the same format used in the other parts of "Statecraft".


End file.
